Shadow Assassin
by Goldrose18
Summary: Strange dreams of Altair have been tormenting Desmond, and a accident with the animus has hurtled him into 1191 with no way back. He has two choices reveal himself and be killed, or secretly helping the Brotherhood, and unexpectedly falling in love.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

The ceiling look as if it would cave in at any time but then again the Villa Auditore was over 700 years old. The chilly air of the room hinted at a bit of wood rot also adding to the fact that there was a giant hole in the wall in front of where he was standing. Through the animus he had seen the catastrophe that had befallen the villa and the village bellow him by the Borgia. The walls on the outside had not even been rebuilt since the attack. It was his favorite place in the whole villa. He just stood there as dawn approached enjoying the rare moments of peace.

"Desmond you have 5 minutes then its time for bed mate don't want the master assassin losing his beauty sleep now do we?"

Well so much for peace Shaun really knew how to ruin the mood.

Pissed about his shattered peace he retorted, "What are you my mom? Piss off I know what time it is!"

Unfortunately Shaun's voice traveled from downstairs too well.

"Very funny. Well I will be pissing off once you get your butt down here!"

Moaning in annoyance, and rolling his eyes Desmond turned from the sight of the slowly ascending red sun through the hole in the wall, and descended into the musky cold dark interior of the sanctuary. As the warm sun rose that morning he never saw an eagle fly from the top of the Villa soaring over the town and its walls towards the rolling ruby sun. A ray of sunshine collided with its flight towards the solar spectacle and it was gone.

Only when the sun set was it safe to go outside. As Desmond was reminded again by an oh so helpful British dickhead named Shaun, as he told him that he and Lucy where going for more supplies and that he was supposed to stay put and not do anything stupid. Leaving him and Rebecca at the sanctuary.

"Hey Desmond, Desmond, DESMOND!" Rebecca's shouting pulled him out of his musing sitting atop the base of the Altair statue to a flustered Rebecca sitting at the animus computer nails drumming the table.

"Sorry did not sleep well." Was his grunted reply as he rubbed his eyes trying to wake up.

Her face went from annoyance to worry. "Is it more dreams of Ezio?" she prompted, "You really need to focus on categorizing you memories."

"I know that damn it." Desmond cursed as he hoped down from is perch, feeling frustrated he ran his hands through his short black hair. Truth be told it was not Ezio he had been dreaming of but Altair and his time in 1191.

Letting his hand fall to his side and sighing he decided to just say it. "Its Altair and his time…the memories are ones I've already seen but, its different I don't know why, just thoughts and other memories like that whole memory inside of a memory thing except its like drifting shadows."

His eyes pleading he looked at Rebecca who staring at him, her expression very serious. She looked back at the entrance to the sanctuary then at her watch. Finally she said, "With all that's going on this is not a coincidence but dangerous. I'm going to call Lucy hang tight for a sec okay?" she briskly started typing on the computer again before standing up and walking towards the entrance of the sanctuary taking a ear piece from one of the cabinets.

Desmond drowned out her voice as she disappeared up the stairs, as he hoisted himself back onto the base of his ancestor's stone statue. He had only told half the truth it was not just memory with in memory, it was already there he just did not notice it. Which brought up more questions, for instance the attack on Masyaf both he and Altair where curious about how easily the villagers where able to escape it. Roberts methods would have consisted not only of a frontal attack but an side as well. There had been a supply bridge in the east side of the village that had not even been attempted the traitor that opened the gate used it regularly. What happened, and other embarrassing memories. The one thing Abstergo and Lucy had missed was Altair was bi. He had seen memories of the people Altair had slept with. One of them for a brief time to his surprise was Malik. Thinking back to how Kadar's death effected their friendship it made better sense, but sometimes Malik would glance at his weirdly almost questionably it was unsettling. Heck all of this was unsettling in of itself. Not the bi part though because he was bi himself.

Hearing footsteps he looked up from the floor to see Rebecca briskly walking back in.

"Get back in the animus where going to do a test run with Altair to test the synchronization." She called to him as she booted up the animus.

Blinking he slid off the statue again walking over to her.

"Wait, why?" He asked confused as he reached her desk.

"Your dreams of Altair maybe some kind of animus interference maybe Subject 16 left behind, or…" she passed

"Or what." Desmond said putting his hands on her desk.

Looking with a frown she reluctantly continued. "Or it could be memories Altair suppressed. I don't know if you know this, but you where the only one that has been able to sync with Altair out of all of the Subjects Abstergo dragged in."

"What!" His hands jerked off the desk.

"Yah weird I know. That's why Lucy wants to do a test run. So take a seat when you ready and we will get started. The others should be back soon."

Huffing in annoyance he laid down in the animus. His vision started to fade and then he was in the familiar white world of the animus.

" Alright I'm going to access Altair's memories." Rebecca's disembodied voice called to him.

Desmond started to see flashes of his ancestor's life Jerusalem, targets, Masyaf, Templar's, ally's, enemies. His head started to pound and a shock of pain ripped through him. He fell to his knees as blinding pain began to build in him tearing at his body.

"BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, Warning, Warning."

"SHIT" He heard Rebecca's voice. Trying to open his eyes he saw flashes of Minerva and the apple. It was all he saw the apple it glowed golden against the flashing red animus.

"WHAT THE HELLS GOING ON" Lucy, it hurt to hear her. Gasping he collapsed writhing in pain.

"Eject him NOW" Lucy screamed.

"I'm trying it wont work...What, oh GOD tell me I'm not seeing this."

Rebecca's shout brought him to the present. Pain tore through him again the apple becoming brighter. He saw his hands and with wide eyes watched as they disintegrated, it was slowly moving up his arms falling towards the void of light. The pain was worse than anything he had felt in or out of the animus.

"He…He's disintegrating." Shaun for once was shell-shocked.

I was not an illusion his real body was disintegrating. He saw the apple its light, his body was almost gone now. Was he dying? Surrendering to the pain he lost consciousness as the light swallowed him.

"NOOOO!" Lucy's voice was the last thing he herd, but as darkness closed on him he saw the apple and its first tomb the Temple of Solomon, then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

**Note: **To all my reviewers and those who faved this you are awesome and thank you all. P.S did some editing

The smell of limestone and dirt mingling with lamp oil greeted Desmond as he slowly returned to consciousness. He blinked several times trying to adjust to the dim light. Then slowly started to push his acing body up, hands shaking. Man he felt like he had been put through ten of Mario's training sessions.

Settling on his knee's he tried to remember what happened. He remembered a malfunction with the animus. An image of Minerva with the apple glowing, flashes of red and white computer code. His body disintegrating.

OH SHIT! Wide awake now he jerked to his knees, and started looking over himself his hands, feet, body, clothes, pack, and hidden blade where all intact. He sighed in relief seeing this.

Now that his mind awake now he saw that he was definitely not in Villa anymore or if he was it was certainly cramped. Deciding to find out where he was he looked around him, and stopped dead. There on his left was a very familiar coffin and on top of it, just as it had looked in the animus was the Apple of Eden. Thinking back to the last sight he had seen before the void had consumed him he swallowed hard and with trembling hands and looked up over the coffin.

The underground chamber of Solomon's temple Mound. He was fricking under the Temple of Solomon, and by the look of it he was in 1191.

What. The. Fuck.

Desmond did not have any more time to think about it as a he heard voices coming from below him. Ducking behind the Ark again looked out the right side to see the very last person he wanted to see and the confirmation of his fears. Robert de Sablé

"I want us through this gate before sunrise the sooner we possess it the sooner we can pay attention to those jackals at Masyaf." Desmond's breath hitched at the familiarity of those words. HE had heard them before through the memories of Altaïr.

Quickly looking to the left he saw on the ledge three assassins. Altaïr, his arrogant and prideful ancestor. Malik, his ancestor's once best friend, lover, and rival, soon to become the victim of a tragedy that would forever change there relationship. Kadar, still a novice doomed to die on this day, in a few moments, and Desmond knew. He knew what would happen.

He was starting to panic. He was undeniably in 1191. With knowledge from over 800 years in the future. Ezio's knowledge and skill as well as Altaïr's memories.

Trying to slow his breathing down was hard. He needed to think. How the heck was he going to get out of this? But thinking would have to wait. Altaïr was now moving down the ladder towards Robert and his men. Malik and Kadar reluctantly close behind. He watched in wonder at this. I was not every day you get to see you 12 times great grandfather. Heck what was he thinking this was so NOT the time to be thinking about that. Especially since oh yah HE WAS NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. Ataïr jumped down the last ladder bracing himself on the ground with is hands and looked up at the Ark. His eyes fell towards the templar's, but not before looking directly at Desmond's hiding place twin pairs of golden eyes meeting only for a moment before Altaïr resumed his course.

"Hold Templar's." Altaïr called.

Desmond quickly rammed his back against the Ark. No longer bothering to control his breathing. He panted, a blush rose to his face as his mind raced drowning out the voices below him. How the hell had he ended up this way? This was so fucked up! He would not have even gone into the animus where it not for his weird dreams and he had a bad feeling he REALY should start listening to them.….

Wait his dreams! He had told Rebecca that they where like a memory inside a memory. His last dream was in this room and a shadow with a small gold glint obscured by shadows that had been behind the ark. HE was behind the ark right now. THIS had happened before in the real past this did happen!

A cry alerted Desmond once again to the outside world. Robert had just thrown Altaïr into the next chamber. He could not see him anymore but the platform beneath his feet shook, and a dust cloud scented of stone blew from where a passage had once been. From what he recalled the tunnel had just collapsed, and Robert was very soon going to give the order for Malik and Kadar to be killed.

"Men to arms kill the Assassins!"

Robert was such a bastard.

Hissing metal grated at his ears along with the yells of the Templar and Assassins below him

DAMN! Frustrated and angry at his predicament. He hit his fist so hard against the stone his knuckles split and blood trickled down his had. He was NOT going to sit here idly there must be SOMETHING he could do. He hated feeling helpless in this situation. He hated not being able to help his brothers. He was from the future but that did not mean much. They where Assassins and he was an Assassin (more than just in name now). But interfering could change everything.

Looking over the ark he gritted his teeth. The Templar's and Robert were overwhelming Malik and Kadar forming a semicircle around them so they could push them towards the collapsed tunnel blocking them in. The only way out was up.

That thought seamed to occur to Malik too. After he blocked another attack he quickly looked behind to the support structure before turning back to his opponent he quickly cut down with a counter attack. "Brother climb now!" He shouted to Kadar springing onto the support. Kadar quick followed but as he climbed Desmond saw an archer raise his bow his aim at Kadar's heart. A cry left Desmond's lips at the some time one left Kadar's the arrow struck true imbedded in his heart. Malik hearing his brother cry shouted for him as he plunged towards the ground dead.

"BROTHER!"

"GET THE APPLE." Robert shouted

With that shout it hit Desmond he had to keep the apple safe. He could hide from his ancestor, but he was not going to let Malik die or let the apple fall into Roberts's hands he was here now and damn anyone who tried to stop him.

Desmond stood up ground crunching beneath him and took a throwing knife from his belt he had found on one of his nighttime wonderings of Monteriggioni. He took aim and threw it at the archer who now had an arrow aimed at Malik.

Bull's-eye! It hit right between the eyes.

Malik quickly looked behind him at the sound of the archer falling. Then turned back to start climbing again eyes searching for where that knife came from. He was almost at the Ark where Desmond was hiding. Templar's were right behind him and as he reached for the ledge a templar right behind him grabbed his leg, and they both plummeted towards the ground. Malik and the guard landed with a thud. Robert, seizing this moment of weakness, plunged his sword and twisted it into Malik's left arm.

"AAAGGG."Malik shouted in pain as Robert sneered at him, and raised his sword to Malik's chest. "Die filth."

"NOO." Desmond yelled. Adrenalin coursed through his veins as he seized the apple from its pedestal, and jumped from the ledge unsheathing his hidden blade. Malik would NOT DIE.

As if sensing his emotions the apple glowed in his right hand. Blinding the confused templar's and Robert, who all moved to cover their eyes. Desmond landed on the guard nearest to Malik and plunged the hidden blade into his neck. Running to Malik's side he quickly threw him over his right shoulder. Ignoring Malik's cries of pain he sprinted to the ladder that led to the ledge where the Assassins had entered minutes before and climbed as quickly as he could for Malik was anything but light. The apples radiance was still blinding the templar's. He still had some time.

Panting and sweating he ascended the second ladder as Malik was starting to struggle, making it a little difficult for Desmond to hold onto him.

"Let me go demon!" Malik hissed at him when they reached the top pushing away from Desmond who was forced to let go of him as he crawled as far as he could before collapsing from the pain in this arm.

The light from the apple was dying and Desmond knew they had only a small amount of time before the Templar's would find them. He paused to catch his breath before addressing the injured Assassin

"First I am no demon." Desmond said walking forwards and grabbing Malik's arm.

"Second if you can walk do it. Questions can come later but for right now I'd rather not let the templar's find us!"

He hauled Malik to his feet and pushed him forward into the passageway. His heart was pounding. The apple's light was gone and he could hear the angry shouts of Robert as they ran.

Malik seemed to trust him for now but if he saw his face things could get too complicated. His hood was up now but knowing Malik he would demand answers he could not give. Not like Malik had a million questions already. He could see the suspicion and bafflement in Malik's eyes.

Rounding another corner Malik stumbled and fell to his knees, his right arm grasping the mangled remains of his left arm.

"Curse you Altaïr!" he gritted through his teeth as Desmond grasped his right arm, pulling him to his feet as they jogged the remainder of the passageway.

The sunrise greeted them as they exited the mine. Malik fell to the ground but Desmond just let him lay there. For in front of him, its alabaster stone structures gleaming golden in the sun and peeling bells calling for morning prayers, the air smelling of salty pomegranates, and early morning bazaars, was Jerusalem.

"Fuck."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

**Note: **To all my reviewers and those who faved this, you are awesome and thank you all.

Desmond's mind went numb for a second everything he had just done sank in. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the blood pounding in his ears. Slowly, he turned his head to the right and he gazed down at the apple locked in his grip so hard that his knuckles and fingertips were white. It had returned to its Ark state shaped like an egg. What was he supposed to do now? He was pretty sure that it was going to be close to IMPOSIBLE to avoid all of the assassins with out some help. He was really good at disappearing but this was definitely not his territory. Malik was not dead but he would have been had he not interfered.

This was turning out to be one insane fucked up morning. Taking a deep breath he ran his had through his hair. He really was starting to get agitated. He concluded that he first had to get him and Malik out of here and find a way to get Malik to trust him so he would not talk to Al Mualim. If that happened he could kiss his life goodbye because the bastard would probably sic Altair on him or templar's to torture him.

Starting to make some sense of the situation he turned back around to get Malik up. If the man was still in shock he could avoid the others questions and knock him out when they got to Masyaf and leave the apple with him so he would think it was a dream.

The sound of a sword being drawn behind him was Desmond's only warning before he felt a cold blade at his throat forcing him to back up slightly so it would not cut him, only to slam into someone's chest. Panic consumed him once again as his hand flew to the offenders arm trying to pry them off, only to feel a sharp pain as the blade cut him and blood dribbled down his collarbone. Harsh strained gasps of breath ghosted his right ear making a shiver run down his spine.

God damn it. Malik!

"You saved my life but not of my brother WHY!" He hissed venomously in his ear.

Desmond's mind went black searching for an excuse that would get him out of this situation but could find none. The blade cut deeper into his neck as a result of his silence.

"Speak demon!"

Ok being called a demon was starting to tick Desmond off.

"I told you Malik I'm not a demon."

Malik faltered in shock hearing his own name.

Feeling the blade no longer pressing as tight against his throat. He once again grabbed Maliks arm, and pulled using the rest of his body to flip Malik so his back was flat on the ground.

"Find them!" Roberts voice echoed from the depths of the mine they had just escaped.

Desmond and Malik's heads both jerked to the sound of the templar's leaders voice. Damn that man was persistent and annoying.

"Why can't that dick head just give up for once!"

Cursing the templar's he retrieved Malik's sword, his hands where still shaking from his near death experience. Malik was struggling to his feet grasping his bloody left arm again as Desmond came over and pulled him along again with little resistance and dragged him down a dirt path to the forest where the Assassins had tethered their horses not even an hour ago. Malik stumbled like a drunk as they went further into the trees, forcing him to slow down. Looking at his face he saw that it was getting sickly pale. Shit, Malik had lost allot of blood, he had to get it patched up soon or he would die.

Ducking behind the walls of some ruins he saw the horses tethered to some trees. Their wide leaves swayed in the cool stagnant breeze showing glimpses of the early sun. Trees were precious around this area and even this time period. Compared to more areas to the north this was almost desert like but still had ideal soil for planting native crops.

From what he hazily recalled from one of Shaun's history lectures that he usually zoned out on. This area was one of the area's that humans first settled called the… What was it again fertile crest, Fertile Crescent, coast? Agh he couldn't remember.

"How…how did you know?" Malik questioned him, hunched over breathless in pain gazing wide-eyed at the horses then to Desmond.

Desmond did not answer, but instead gently set Malik next to the packhorse. Placing Malik's sword on the ground out of Malik's reach he crossed over to Altaïr's steed. The horse wined as he rummaged through the tattered leather bags, but found some bandages that would at least stop the bleeding. Looking at the wounded man he bit his lip wondering if Malik would allow him to treat his wound with out killing him. Glancing back at Malik he saw that his eyes where slightly closed and his hands where limp at his sides. He seamed out of it enough

Trying to calm down he took a breath and slowly crossed over to Malik's side and knelt beside him.

"Hey don't freak out I'm just going to bandage you arm ok." Desmond said as he set the Apple by his side before reaching slowly for Malik's bloody arm. From the look of it Malik had already applied a tourniquet.

Keeping his eye on Malik incase he came around. Desmond gently moved the fabric of Malik's sleeve aside from the wound so he could better look at it.

He winced as he pulled the sticky fabric away from Malik's flesh. Man that has to hurt like hell!

Desmond wanted to at least wash the wound before he bandaged it. Quickly standing up, but still keeping one eye on Malik. He stood retrieving the water skin from the packhorse and returned to Malik's side. Holding Malik's left arm in his right hand he slowly poured water on the wound. Once he deemed it clean enough he started to bandage it as well as he could. Malik only winced a few times and his breathing sped up but made no move to stop Desmond or even move.

Tying the bandage one last time Desmond reached to wipe the sweat from his face before picking the Apple back up and placing it in his backpack. Sighing he moved over to the ruin's wall and sat down his back pressed against cool stone. Resting his hands lazily on his knees he looked at Malik.

His color had improved a little but Desmond was still unsettled by the lack of movement. Knowing Malik he was damn sure that he was faking unconsciousness and was waiting for Desmond to drop his guard like before. Only Malik knew now that Desmond could beat him in the wounded state, and since Desmond had not killed him yet they were pretty much at a stand still until one of them did something.

In other words break time.

Letting his head fall back against the stone he looked at the sky obscured by tree's. The sky was getting brighter and if he recalled correctly it took 2 days to reach Masyaf. So he had to gain Malik's trust in two days so he would not tell the master about him. Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

**Note: **To all my reviewers and those who faved this, you are awesome and thank you all. And I'm going to be changing this to Maliks pov because it makes the story so much funner.

Malik's head was still swimming from the pain in his newly bandaged arm. He was familiar with pain. He felt it everyday from the training he had to endure his whole life as an assassin at Masyaf. Long grueling days in the hot sun he and his brothers struggling through sword practice or climbing. The pain then was always a reminder that he was alive. He lived and he endured all for the sake of the brotherhood, himself, and his precious little brother. Oh yes he felt pain. However the pain of losing a loved one was more paralyzing than his wound.

He had lost two loved ones today. His brother. Kadar was slaughtered by those vile templar's. His corpse under the temple mound with no burial just cold and lifeless. Behind his closed eyes he saw Kadar alive again fresh in his mind as the sunrise. His smiles, laugh, and innocence he portrayed even after staining his hands with blood so many times. Kadar had been the only thing left of his family. He barely knew his parents before they died but he knew they loved him and his brother. Something like love was rare in the brotherhood and was highly discouraged by the Master. Al Mualim taught that love made you weak and vulnerable a petty, worthless emotion.

Malik did not think so. His love for his brother was the one reason he survived many missions. He knew the power of emotions and how it could brighten even the darkest days. Through the years Malik had struggled with grasping this concept of emotion mastering a semblance of control over them. It was one of his hardest missions and he succeeded. Many others gave up on there emotions and tried to go without them, choosing a life of hopelessness, an empty existence. A fine way to lose you life in his opinion. It was also by these emotions that he had for a time fallen for Altaïr.

Sword callused hands clenched in the dirt digging hard under his nails as emotions burned behind his tightly closed eyes. Struggling to keep his conscious state unnoticed Malik clenched his jaw tightly to relieve some of his rage.

Altaïr. The betrayal he felt from his actions was far worse than the pain he had felt when they had secede being lovers. The man he had once known. His short black hair gleaming from sweat and sun from morning training, and dark eyes gleaming with mischief, as he would step to the side avoiding his sword only to grab his arm and pull him flush against his body. Malik always would struggle against him even when he was fatigued to the point of collapse. Altaïr would always smirk at his vain attempts before pulling him into a fierce kiss.

Passion had been the start of there relationship the simple curiosity of two young boys. But Altaïr 's case may have been more for a wanting to be loved, to have a family. He had no experience with love so took Al Mualim's philosophy like a fish to water. Malik had recognized Altaïr's longing for a family he had never had. But he and Kadar had given him that! Given him the love of a brother and family, and what does that man do with his sacrifice! Gets the people he had once considered family, his family DIE!

After Adha died the man Malik saw walk through his door was not the Altaïr he knew. His eyes no longer gleamed and his face was a mask. After so much work tearing down his walls and giving him a semblance of humanity he disregarded it in a heartbeat all for Al Mualim teachings his supposed, "Father". Al Mualim was their master but he would never be a father to anyone. The man was to closed minded to understand.

However one thing was still the same and that was that he was an assassin and he still had a mission to complete. Return to Masyaf with the artifact. He had reminisced enough for now.

He was tempted to open his eyes more to observe his surroundings better, but then he would alert the boy who was sitting against the wall not far from him. His anger that the boy had not interfered to save his brother's life and only his had blinded him earlier and he had foolishly underestimated the boy. However, from that mistake he had gathered some useful information that led to the standstill they where at now.

Taking a deep breath he let it flow through his worn body banishing his rage for now and clearing his mind enough to assess the situation. First was that the boy was mortal, the evidence was plain as day from the blood that had stained his sword as he had cut the boys neck. Second he knew his name and possibly much more. Most likely he was a sorcerer. He had summoned holy light from the item that put the sun to shame. Then the item was indeed holy and of much importance. Al Mualim's urgency of retrieving the item now had more reason. The boys movements also spoke of much training and skill but still needing polishing. The possibility of the boy being a templar was very unlikely. He had cursed them with much passion, and there was the tattoo to consider he had briefly seen it when the boy in a flurry of panic tried to pry Malik's blade from his neck. It was unusual, black ink formed strange patterns the likes he had never seen before on the boys left arm, but one thing stood out among the lines. A line in the middle formed an arch that when looking at the surrounding lines it ghosted the symbol of the creed.

The sorcerer he had resolved had some ties to the creed for a templar or spy would not see it fit to brand themselves with the mark of the creed. Although he did not even KNOW if it was the creed symbol he needed a better look. He needed ANSWERS!

Malik had had enough of this stand still, and the boy had made no move from his position, if the boy would not say anything then he would begin. The sorcerer had saved his life twice now and made no attempt to hurt him even when he had threatened the boy earlier. The boy was naive and he would use that to his advantage. Find out his motive and identity then chose if he lived or died.

Malik slowly tried opening his eyes. Golden sunlight stung them forcing water to form in his vision. Blinking the water away he looked down to not stare directly in the rays. Only a few moments was needed before he could see clearly. Quickly he observed the area, before he started questioning the boy he had to be aware of all assets.

His eyes where first drawn to the boy sitting across from him his hopes that his return to the waking world had been unnoticed where greatly acknowledged. His observation of the boy's naivety earlier had proven to be well founded. He was leisurely resting against the crumbling stonewall his hands resting lazily on his knee's and his head laid back exposing his throat stained with a thin line of blood from where his sword had sliced his flesh. His garments where strange unlike any he had seen from any land. He wore a short white tunic with long sleeves and a hood obscured his face. It seamed to be held together in the front by a thin line of interlocking metal that was partially undone to show a black tunic underneath with a strangely embroidered white eagle. The underside of the tunic that was revealed appeared to be bright red an expensive color to dye. Along with his trousers they were the most unusual garments he had ever seen. In what land could one make cloth so well and metal so intricate but giving it an appearance from a distance that would be common? Sorcery indeed.

He returned his gaze in search of his steel and curiously found it on the ground several paces to his left. Clever, so the boy had the sense to leave him his blade just so much out of his reach that by the time he retrieved the weapon the boy would overwhelm him. Yet did not keep it hostage? What did the boy want?

Returning his gaze to the sorcerer Malik remembered the tattoo. Eyeing the boys left arm again he noticed straps attached to the boys arm the straps held…

"You have a HIDDEN BLADE?" Malik shouted wide-eyed.

His outburst immediately had the boy in a crouched attack position, his left arm automatically flexed and the hidden blade slid from its sheath. Malik right hand went to one of his throwing knifes. His eyes still locked on the boy's left hand, he had five fingers. Another impossibility a hidden blade that did not require a sacrifice?

"What manner of sorcerer are you?" Malik asked bewildered.

The boys stance immediately slouched his bewilderment mirroring his.

"What? I'm not a…Aghhh!" The boy sat down hard again in annoyance muttering to himself, his right hand massaging his forehead under his hood.

Malik only caught some of his ramblings but what he heard only annoyed him further.

"Ok this is ridiculous…. Shit this is so not my day…Robert…shit head…attack Masyaf."

"What!" Malik surged to his feat at that last statement ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to consume him. Clenching his knife in his right hand he walked halfway towards the boy.

Startled the boy sprang to his feet as well his blade expended.

"What do you mean Robert attack Masyaf!" he hissed "You promised answers sorcerer you will give them to me now!" he demanded holding his knife at arms length in front of him.

Then tension was thick in the air as the boy seamed to think greatly about his response. A few seconds later the boy sighed then to Malik's surprise sheathed his blade and backed into the stone crossing his arms in front of his chest.

" Ok lets get one thing straight first you can ask you questions but I will not or I should say I cannot answer all of them. I'm a friend and will not hurt you, and you weren't supposed to hear that but come on its pretty obvious that Robert will attack Masyaf, he wants the apple and thinks the brotherhood had it" His voice seemed a little untruthful at that piece about Robert, but besides that his story rang true.

" Apple?" Malik questioned

" This." the boy answered reaching towards his pack.

Malik's hand tightened on his blade aimed at the sorcerer as he pulled the handle of the curious line of interlocking metal. Malik's eyes widened in amazement as the metal gave the most curious noise that almost stung his ears. The bag opened and the boy reached in to pull out the Holy relic.

A laugh bubbled in Malik's chest. "That is no apple it's the ark boy."

The boy was starting to look agitated. "It's called the Apple of Eden even the master knows that."

Finally the boy let something slip. "What do you know of the master?" He demanded "What are your connections to the brotherhood, from where do you hail, how did you know my name when you have clearly not even given you own in return?" his eyes narrowed at the boy's nervous movements. The boy was struggling with the answers. His reply would possibly decide his fate, and he knew that. Malik could see that the boy was not naive enough to misunderstand his warning. "Do not bother lying I can already see you are no good at it." Malik hissed taking a step towards the sorcerer.

Silence was all that Malik heard as he watched the boy massage his forehead again. A nervous habit of his Malik concluded. The boy then let his hand fall to his side and replaced the "Apple" in his pack. He then straightened up and sighed deep and long, then looked straight at Malik.

"My name is Desmond, I'm loyal and born to the Assassin's order but I'm not loyal to Al Mualim it's personal. As for where I'm from maybe later."

Malik eyes widened half shocked by the information he had just heard. By the boy's firm and gentle tone he had no doubt that the boy Desmond spoke no lies.

Desmond made an attempted smile, his arms relaxing at his side and his leaned slightly to the left. This gesture made Malik's breath hitch. For a moment he had seen Kadar in the place where Desmond was before his vision return to normal. The pain must be getting to his senses.

Malik lowered his steel. He could trust the boy for now as long as he had a knife. The boy obviously trusted him a bit too much. If what the boy said was true about the attack on Masyaf they where wasting time. He would give the boy until Masyaf to answer the rest his questions. If Desmond thought he was leaving with the "Apple" he was sorely mistaken.

"And where do you intend to go?" he smirked "Surely you know that I cannot let you leave with the Ark. If you are truly a brother of the creed why do you defy the master?"

"ASSASSINS!"

Both Malik and Desmond heads shot towards the cry. The horse's started to whine. Templars Malik thought angrily. Had to show up at the worst possible time.

Seven templars where making there way towards them through the trees from the east. There were to many to fight they had no choice but to flee.

Malik spun around and stumbled to retrieve his sword and untether his horse. But curse it how was he going to get the "Apple" and Desmond to Masyaf. He looked back only to have the boy run by him.

"Time to go." Desmond said untethering Altaïr's horse, and mounting it with ease. One of the soldiers was almost upon them Desmond quickly ended his life with a well-thrown blade. He recognized it. As Malik mounted his horse as well, Desmond rode to side.

"As for where I'm going I think that is obvious. Come on! We need to get Masyaf before they do." Desmond kicked the horse into a gallop. Turning the stallion north. Malik followed. Now even more bewildered than ever. As they rode hard down the sun illuminated dirt path he remembered his brothers end, as he had fallen Malik had seen a glint of metal behind the Ark before a knife had embedded its self in the archers head that had an arrow aimed at him. The same archer that had killed his brother. This boy was a well of mystery that was for sure but he had to grudgingly admit that for whatever reason the boy had failed to save his brother he had avenged his death.

But all was not done yet! He thought as he gritted his teeth. His arm stinging with wind blown sand as they both turned the horses to the mountains.

Altaïr ibn La-Ahad would pay!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

**Note: **To reviewers and fans I am glad you are all enjoying this as much as I am :) and you are all awesome

The drumming of hooves on hard packed ground spraying dirt and rock in its wake was the only sound that filled Desmond's ears as much as his pounding heart as he and Malik plowed further away from there pursuers at breakneck speed. Rivers of sweat rolled down his brow, neck, back, and chest soaking his clothes to the point where they clung on to his like a second skin. Noon sun was also beating on his back adding to his discomforts. Being in the animus had definitely gotten him out of shape. He had only been riding for a few hours and his thighs where already starting to burn. The horse he was riding was doing a lot better than he was.

Altaïr's stallion Aman was a mix of an Arabian and a non-fading black Barb warhorse of about 14 hands in height. His ancestor had received the steed from Al Mualim as a colt to raise to be his loyal companion in missions and to always find his way back to his master. Altaïr had taken great pains to train the proud stallion below him. Even going so far to train him to gnaw through ropes if danger was nearby. He was the most intelligent horse Desmond had ever met and that statement was not the bleeding effect taking its toll.

At the assassin farm where he had grown up the cover for their remote village was a horse-breeding farm. His main duties (when he was in trouble) included exercising the horses. Needless to say he was in trouble a lot, so much that he was the best rider in the farm.

At this point he was very glad that he knew already how to ride and did not have to rely on the bleeding effects from Altaïr or Ezio. This was maybe one of the only things he may have inherited from his ancestors with out help. But then again he would never know. His skills as an assassin had been about average when he escaped the farm to see the outside world. On the other hand he had never really tried that hard to be a great fighter. He had been too naive at the time. He had seriously thought that everyone at the farm (including his parents) were all hippies that needed to get a life. All he had wanted was to be free, to actually have a normal life and as a consequence of his rebellious attitude ran away, straight into the Templars greedy hands.

But that did not change the fact that Aman was a very smart horse. Heck the only person who should have been able to ride him without problems was Altaïr.

Shaking his head he brushed it aside. He would have to deal with that later.

Scanning the surrounding rocky landscape Desmond noticed the concealed path on his left at the bottom of the hill he was looking for. Quickly he pulled on the reins to steer Aman away from the main road and towards the brush-hidden road. If he had continued on the main road they would have run into Roberts templar camps and that was the last place they should be heading towards. Even if Robert had not reached his troops yet they were too conspicuous as it was. A man with assassin's robes wounded riding as fast as he could towards Masyaf and another who just looked plain out of place. As Malik had said he did not "hail" from around here. Now THAT was the biggest understatement of the century.

He weakly laughed at that last thought. Oh man if Shaun knew he was in the third crusade he would be throwing a hissy fit.

Desmond quickly lent forward and tightly griped the horse with his thighs he was quickly approaching the brush wall. Aman responded to his signals leaning forward with him and panting. Desmond breathed deep the smell of hay, heat, and musky fur when powerful muscles rippled beneath him as Aman leaped across the hedge. The landing jarred him forward and his narrowly avoided biting his tongue. Recovering from the jump Desmond yelped as his head was jerked back as Aman thundered down the rockier path of his own accord.

He turned his head back briefly and through the glaring sun and dust clouds to see that Malik was following him closely. He was relieved to see that some of his color had returned to his face but his left arm was still hanging limply at his side. He was using only one arm help steer his horse. His eyes met Desmonds only for a brief moment before he had to turn and focus his attention more on the road. This path, if he recalled correctly, was pretty treacherous at the speeds they were going at,

but he could practically feel Malik's eyes burning into his sweat drenched back. Should have known with the way their last conversation went. Man! Now that was just strange. He was really talking to Malik not as Altaïr but as himself, as Desmond and honestly it scared him.

Through the small amount of shade the cliff walls provided Desmond looked down at his hands to see they were still slightly shaking. After all that had happened he was trying his hardest to put up a calm exterior by controlling as much of his emotions and body as he could. Deep breathing and thinking things through something he was not so good at but heck he was really trying now because his life depended on it. He really hoped that Malik would not look at his hands they were the only thing that gave him away at this moment. At the clearing he had crossed his arms in front of his chest to hide his hands but they just would not stop shaking.

Sweat rolled down his face and was starting to sting his eyes. He leaned down slightly to quickly brush it away with his sleeve. As he did Malik encouraged his horse to go faster and pulled alongside Aman's right side.

"Heavy garments like yours are not meant for the heat of noon or are you wanting to collapse." Malik said tactfully eyes lingering on his hood that concealed his face.

Damn! I so do not need this right now Desmond thought. He had hoped that they would be able to reach Masyaf without Malik seeing his face and he planed to stick to that plan as long as possible. But this heat was killing him and his legs ached from hard riding. He needed a rest soon and when he did Malik was sure to swoop in on him like a vulture. His mind suddenly jump-started again as looked over Malik's horse. Foam was starting to form at the horse's mouth and he was panting heavily. Sweat drenched his flanks and he was showing signs of faltering. Sighing Desmond gave in he loosened his legs grip on Aman and slowed him to a walk. He smirked as Malik rode past him not having expecting him to slow. The horses needed a rest as much he did, Desmond concluded smirk still plastered on his face as he watched Malik's horse skid to a stop from Malik's jerky steering.

A red-faced Malik turned to see him smirking before he wisely erased it from his face and kept moving forward. Malik waited as he came closer eyes fixed on him. He kept his head lowered and his hands out of sight as he caught up to Malik and they resumed their course.

Desmond did not dare look at Malik but kept his eyes on the road and his head leaned forward. The air was tense between them not event the whispers of a cool breeze was able to soften it.

"So" Desmond jumped as Malik spoke. "Where does this path lead Desmond I do not recall it on any map I have seen."

Thank god! Desmond mentally sighed as the tension letup a little. This was conversation he can deal with now but he still had to be cautious. He could not let it slip that Altaïr used this path for emergencies. The knowledge of its location was a gift from Al Mualim for being his "best student". God, Al Mualim really was a pain and not a good influence. He with held many secrets from the brotherhood that should have been know to everyone. Templar bastard.

Carefully he responded "It's an off route path used by assassins in the past, but an earth quake caused a land slide and it was abandoned." Desmond paused only for a minute for a breath before Malik swooped in on him.

" A blocked path? Oh I see. What in the name of Allah are you playing at boy! " Malik yelled at him his eyes were burning and his good hand grasped the hilt of his sword.

Desmond snapped this was too much he had tried to deal with this as best he could but he was done. Pulling Aman to a halt he growled back. "Will you please **shut up** and stop interrupting me. You are not the only one having a bad day around here. I said there was a land slide NOT blocked."

Desmond sat there panting from his out burst. The rage that had fed his reckless action dissipated with each breath he took.

Malik had stopped as well. Desmond could not see his face but his own paled at the realization of what he just did. His eyes flew to Malik's hand that still played with the handle of his sword for a time finally his hand relaxed its grip.

"Sorry." Desmond quickly murmured nudging Aman into a trot.

He did not look back but he heard Malik encourage his horse forward as well.

"You are hiding much boy. " Malik said to him coming up on his left side now.

"I will not trust you fully so expect me to question you. So please continue let me hear this not so thought through plan."

Saved again Desmond thought. Man I'm going to be an old man by the time we are at Masyaf with the way things are.

Signing he continued. "It was thought to be unstable there is a stone slab wedged about 20 from the ground between the cliff walls. But it's been about 50 years and its still holding. Under the rock is a cave, there is a spring there and it's the perfect spot to see what Robert is doing."

"What do you mean boy you just told me we would be surrounded by cliffs." Malik asked looking bewildered at the notion.

"Oh well you see." He said rubbing the back of his head and giving a weak chuckle. " The land slide caused that gap in the cliff that's right by Roberts camp. I was thinking of camping in the cave tonight by the camp so we can possibly overhear his plans, and hiding close to him is the last place he is going to be looking for us." He pointed out.

Malik's eye started twitching his face fell to one of open bewilderment.

Desmond was trying really hard not to laugh at Malik as his mouth opened and closed, struggling with his speech.

"Tha..tha..is the most idiotic, cock brained, best idea I have heard all day." Malik said starting to laugh as well. " Either I'm going mad or I'm beginning to like you."

Desmond felt his heart flutter in his chest. This was totally unreal he just got a complement from Malik, an almost near impossibility.

"Lead on we will follow this plan for now. But I have more experience we will be following my guidance when it comes to spying novice." Malik smirked at Desmond before racing a head of him once again at break neck speed.

Desmond was left dumbstruck. Wait did he just.

"I am not a NOVICE." Desmond shouted after him kicking Aman into a gallop. He was so going to get Malik back for that comment. A smile tugged at his lips and stayed there as he passed Mailk to once again lead the way. Well this was a rather nice turn. Who knew that he would actually get along with the sarcastic assassin. Then again he thought, his smile fading, as things were Malik would be his only chance for a friend in this era.

Over-head the sun burned its golden rays illuminating the pale blue sky. Almost unnoticed to all an eagle seamed to soar from one of its rays descending to the dry cliffs of earth below it. Its appearance went unnoticed by Desmond. But else were not far away cold brown eyes watched.

"Sir we have had word from our patrol's no assassins passed this way. We must have over taken them." The eyes of Robert de Sable stayed focused on the bird of prey as his subordinate gave him the report. He gave the man no response as he finished. Making the soldier uneasy.

"My lord?" the soldier asked again. "Will we wait to ambush them?"

Roberts hand shot out to grab the soldiers neck. His eyes cold as he tightened his grip on the gasping man.

"What makes you think we are ahead?" He growled. "How dare you speak of things you do not know fool!" he shouted throwing the man onto the ground. The soldier trembled trying to regain his breath.

"Remember this." Robert hissed. "Assassins are as slippery as eels and as sly as jackals. Knowing them they already are ahead of us." He turned his eyes to the land below him.

"My apologies my lord." The man gasped regaining his footing.

"Get out of my sight fool. Tell the men we ride for the main camp." Robert barked not bothering to turn back as the soldier scrabbled to do his lords bidding.

Robert face was cold and calculating thinking about the events that had occurred earlier that morning, and that boy. He raised his right hand with the knife the boy had used to dispatch one of his men its appearance was old but it was sharp as the day it must have been made.

A cruel smirk curled at his lips, to Masyaf he would go and reclaim what had been stolen from him. This battle was not over, not by a long shot!

Robert sheathed the knife in his belt and crossed over to his men and horse.

" We ride for the main camp with all haste." He barked at his remaining men mounting his steed. Pulling the horse's head around he was pleased to see that his best soldiers had already mounted waiting for his command.

"You will show no mercy to any assassin we may see. Kill them all."

Shouts and cheers accompanied this declaration.

"However." Roberts called, raising his hand to quiet his troops.

"There is a boy riding with the assassin we seek you will know him. He garments make him stand out like a diamond in a dung pile. Kill the assassin but bring me the boy alive and unspoiled." He eyes burning with every word.

Confident he got his point across Robert wheeled his horse around and thundered down the hill, his troops loyally following him with all haste.

Robert smirked again evilly and a sinister chuckle left his lips. Soon boy you and the Apple will be mine!

**Note:** sorry this took so long I had final exams. So read and review:)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

**Note:** Sorry this took so long Assassins Creed Revelations threw me way off.

**Note2: **I redid that part about the bleeding effect turned out I hated that part being to early in the story. So I hope you like the new version

Desmond and Malik did not speak for the rest of the day. They did not eat and did not get off their horses. If they needed to rest they slowed their horses to a walk.

Desmond did not complain once, even if he wanted to he doubted if he could even speak. His throat was as dry as sand paper, his breath hot and heavy. Adding on to that, in the last few miles his lower body had started to go numb. Desmond was not to the point of fainting but his body was starting to run on its reserves.

Taking a moment Desmond once again glanced upwards at the sky. It was a welcome distraction from the stench of hot and smelly horses with a side of two thoroughly roasted assassin's. Man this totally beat swimming through a sewer and not in a good way.

The coming evening offered cooler breaths of wind that offered comfort to him as the topaz sky darkened to a navy sapphire. The sun and its burning rays had long disappeared from Desmond's and Malik's view long before it set behind the cliff walls that out lined their path, crudely cut by the wind and water of ancient times.

From Altaïr's memories he was able to access the one that held the cliff lined path and was able to discern (with great relief) that they were approximately half a mile from their destination. As soon as they turned this last bend in the road they would be able to see the suspended rock he had mentioned earlier to Malik.

Desmond took a quick glace at Malik who was riding on his left side. The two had slowed their horses to a walk not long ago at Desmonds signal. Aman was faring better than Malik's horse but not by much they were in bad shape from a hard days riding and they were hungry, as was he. From what he could see Malik was going pale again, sweat was now coating his clothes as his had done at the start of their escape. Desmond had worried the whole day about Malik's arm but made no comment about it. He let his eyes wander down and leaned forward a little in the saddle trying to get a look at Malik's injured arm. He managed to glimpse the blood stained sleeve of his robes before Maliks head rounded on him like a cranky lion his nostrils flared and eyes promising death if subjected to further scrutiny.

A jolt of fear ran through Desmond body causing him to flinch as he realized his sly observation was not welcome. Quickly he glued his eyes on the turning road ahead of them his face flushed.

Desmond's hands fidgeted with the reigns. He had almost forgotten how consumed by rage Malik had been after the death of his brother. He did not need the bleeding effect to see that Malik was out for blood…Altaïr's blood. It saddened and frustrated him to no end. This whole situation was so complicated! He had had the whole day to think about his options, and the chances of Maliks help were becoming slimmer each time he reviewed his ancestors memories.

But he would not give up hope to at least become someone Malik could look at and know he was safe to be with. He did not know if this drive was Altaïr's memories or his own feelings of maybe a budding friendship. He did not care right now all he wanted. The thing forefront of his mind was getting Malik back to Masyaf alive (and for himself just to stay alive).

Rounding the bend Desmond had to stop himself from gasping at the sight ahead of him. True had had seen it before in his ancestors memories but it was a hell of a lot cooler seeing it for himself.

Excitement filed him, giving his legs the strength to kick Aman into a gallop. He wanted to get closer. A smile of pure childish wonder left his lips as he rode on to their destination in awe of the marvel before him.

The rock had been once apart of the upper part of the sheer cliffs along their road. The outline of where the rock that had been chiseled away by the quake was still visible despite the erosion the passing decades had imposed on it. A gaping jagged crescent cut that almost perfectly matched its previous occupant, which now hung loosely suspended about twenty feet from the ground. The rock was almost half as thick as it's distance from the ground. Barely wedged between the two cliff faces at a perfect horizontal line. Fading sunlight streamed in from the gap behind the rock where the landslide had taken place. It gave a foreboding image. The halo of light accented where rock met cliff wall and from a distance it looked like it did not meet at all. A floating bolder suspended by light. This was the reason why the path had been abandoned, and why! If discovered they would turn around. Everyone in this time was too superstitious to risk getting closer.

But Desmond felt nothing but excitement. He rode the rest of the way to the rock at a gallop his smile never leaving his face and only continued to grow as he pulled Aman to a stop in its evening shadow. Gazing up under the rock, just feeling the thrill of being so close to a masterpiece only nature could produce, it was plain awesome.

Hearing hoof beats hurriedly coming closer behind him Desmond did not bother to turn around to see Malik catch up to him.

Sighing contently he lowered his head once again as Malik slowed his horse to a walk beside him.

Aman once again moved with no prompting. He already knew where to go and he was tiered as well. Desmond could sense his eagerness by the happy trot he displayed nickering happily. Making a rough chuckle leave Desmond lips at Aman's display.

The cave was based directly under the rock on the right side. Its entrance was a gaping black hole ten feet in height and about five feet wide. The interior was of the same height as the entrance but widened in an expansive oval shape with a jagged roof, and was able to hold about 20 men easily. The spring was in the back of the cave situated in the far left and was about waist deep. The spring flowed into a small passage at the rear of the cave, feeding the nearby creek that supplied Roberts men with fresh water. A small crack in the wall was at the back of the cave spewing a small amount of light into the spring, thus reflecting the dim light to the whole interior of the cave.

Desmond suspected that crack was put there on purpose. Simply because the back wall was about 4 feet thick. There was also a bucket, small water jugs, and firewood stacked neatly in a corner. Probably left by Altair.

Entering the cave Desmond immediately welcomed the drop in temperature.

One day down one and a half to go.

Pulling hard on Aman's reins Desmond brought the thirsty stallion to a very reluctant stop. Aman complained greatly and turned his head to meet Desmond eyes giving him an evil look.

I swear this horse was a human in a past life Desmond thought reaching his hand down to massage some of the feeling back into his right leg.

Damn I hope I can get down in one piece. Desmond gritted his teeth feeling his burning muscles wake up. He moved his hand down to his foot and eased it out of the stirrup. Then he moved his ministrations to his left leg and removed it as well from the stirrup. Desmond then grunted with effort swinging his left leg over and slid down Aman's side. As he dismounted he heard Malik cautiously entered the cave. Desmonds felt his feet hit the ground and pain like needles shot through his calves. His feet started to give out on him. Luckily his hands, which were still holding the saddle, tightened their grip out of reflex. Desmond held onto the saddle panting in pain. After a few moments he shakily tried putting weight on his feet again. After a few tries his legs had enough blood in them for him to stand.

Man that was close. If he had fallen Malik (who was glaring at his back again). Could have seen his face or taken his moment of weakness to kill him. But he was weak, he thought removing Amans tack. The day had worn him out, he doubted he could fight in the state he was in and Malik was no better with his arm injured.

Desmond saw that Aman was getting impatient so he quickly set to work removing his saddle and bridle.

The saddle was well made and light which was good for both rider and horse. It would allow for more speed and comfort to the horse and would lower the risk of the horse getting sores. He placed the saddle on the ground by the cave wall behind Aman. Returning to his task he unbuckled Aman's bridle.

"There easy boy." He whispered patting the horses' neck as he slipped the bridle off. Aman gave an appreciative snort before walking over to the spring dipped his head and took a long grateful drink.

Desmond walked over to the wall and found a notch to hang the bridle on. Then turned around to see how Malik was faring.

Malik had chosen to settle on the right side of the cave as far away from Desmond as he possibly could go. Malik had already dismounted his horse and was in the processes of removing the bridle one handed. He managed that with ease then went to work on the saddle. His movements were jerky and even in the dim light Desmond could see him straining not to show how tiered he was. But Malik was still able, Desmond concluded. He was also one of the most stubborn people he had "met", Altaïr being at the top of that list, he thought walking over to the array of small water jugs partially buried by damp earth.

Aman ceased his endeavor of draining the spring as Desmond and his sore muscles painfully knelt to the ground a few paces from him collecting two earthwhere jugs. He lowered one jug into the spring and almost dropped it as blistering cold water met his seared flesh. God it felt great! After hours of baking in that damned sun this was a very welcome relief. The water at his hands called to attention the incredible thirst he had been harboring all day. Raising the jar to his lips he swiftly consumed its contents. Sighing in appreciation he just let the feeling of the cool liquid coarse through his body his throat, liver, and veins rejuvenating him like three monster drinks. He wanted to take off his jacket and shirt so damn badly. Just to jump in the spring and let the water cool him down. But that would dirty the water and he did not want to taste how bad he smelled. Even more important he could not let Malik see his face, and nights out here were cold. He would be cool in an hour to an hour and a half at most.

After his third jug of water he refilled his cup and rose to his feet. Holding the other empty jug in his left hand. He turned to look at Malik in the corners of his eyes. The assassin had just finished removing the saddle and his horse was already approaching the spring. Desmond smiled as the Arabian black came closer.

Maliks horse was quite friendly. He stood two hands shorter than Aman. Was the same shade of non-fading black but with white socks and star on his face. Desmond shifted the cups into one hand and reached out the other for him to smell. He took a good whiff of Desmond then after seeing he had no food brushed passed him to join Aman in quenching their thirst.

Now to see how Malik was doing.

"Hey catch." Desmond called throwing the empty jug to a startled Malik.

Malik just managed to swerve around in time to catch it with his right hand leaving his limp left arm for Desmond to see.

"Shit!" he could not help from exclaiming wide eyed in pure disbelief that Malik was still standing as he saw the discolored blood and pus soaked bandages. A thin river of blood stained Maliks robe and dripped lazily to the ground.

Maliks eyes narrowed, his eyes first went to the cup in his hand then looking back at Desmonds line of vision, he followed it to his mangled arm. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before masking his expression.

"What boy?" He rasped cautiously walking towards Desmond eyes furrowed dangerously, testing him.

"Get a drink Malik your thirsty." Desmond sighed rubbing his forehead to relive an oncoming headache. Malik was going to be a pain again. But it could not be helped. He had had the whole day to think things through. To figure out a way to survive. But it was so IRITATING.

Still massaging his head he walked over to the supplies Altaïr had left.

" Don't you dare turn your back on me!"

"You know maybe you should pay more attention to the fact that you could DIE if that arm is not treated." Desmond said sarcastically over his shoulder, bending down to retrieve enough wood for a small fire.

After a short pause he continued while collecting some kindling.

"Or you could look at the other obvious fact that.."

THUNK!

Desmond stopped in midsentence, he froze, eyes locked on the knife staked in the log he had been reaching for. If the aim had been just a little higher it would have gone through his hand.

Carfully Desmond withdrew his hand. He made no move after that; he chose to stay still, not moving from his crouched possition.

The tension that had dissipated after the day's ride was back again.

Desmond sighed. He had been waiting for Malik to snap. But not in this situation. Thinking over what he had just said he realized he could have been a little subtler in his worries. But Malik was overreacting. By questioning Maliks health, Malik thought that Desmond was mocking him. His giving Mailk orders as though he knew him was probably also a bad move on his part.

New beads of sweat formed on Desmonds face. His heart began to pick up its pace, pounding harder and harder against his ribs. He was purely going with his gut here. By staying still he was giving Malik an easy target if he chose to end his life.

Which put this tennis ball in Maliks court.

Desmond was sure that he wouldn't kill him, but he might decide to wound him instead

"Silence and water will do well for us both." Malik finally said, sighing, exhaustion breaking in his voice.

Desmond hung his head, took a few calming breaths then stood.

He could gladly live with that.

Ok school has started and I am swamped. I am still writing but it might take longer, and thank you to all my viewers. Oh and don't worry I am working on chapter 7 and its going to be goooood!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

**Note: **Happy Holidays to N. H. Moonshadow and to all my readers

The last hours of the evening passed in foreboding silence. Desmond had made a small fire close to the cave entrance between Desmond and Maliks areas. The horses laid down to rest in their master's territories. Maliks tethered by his tack, and Aman un-tethered between wall and spring. The fire was a welcome comfort to the chilly evening. It also made food more enjoyable. Altaïr had left some salted meat behind, and Maliks rummaging produced a poultice for his arm.

This time Malik had taken upon himself to cleaned and re-bandage his arm with out Desmond help. It had been painful to watch.

_Flashback:_

Resting his back against the cold stone he had slid down to sit with a groan. His head leaned partially back when he landed with a thump, hands flopping on his knees when Malik began.

Light from the fire glowed on the silent cave walls, and smoke created the invisible barrier between him and Malik. Desmond's feelings of content for having a full stomach were stopped short when he heard pained hisses from Malik's side of the cave.

_What was that_? Desmond thought.

Raising his head he squinted through the smoke to the other side of the cave.

Malik was sitting almost parallel to himself, back against the cave wall and exhausted, legs sprawled on the dirt ground.

Frowning in confusion Desmond could see that Malik had removed his cowl. He observed Maliks mess of dark hair shining with sweat before lowering curious eyes to his face.

Desmond rocked forwards to his knees when he deciphered the assassins face as contorted in open pain.

_Shit, has his arm gotten worse?_

Desmonds mind had drifted from Maliks wound after his latest near death experience. He obviously wanted some space, so Desmond left the guy alone. Desmond might know Malik but only through part of him that was Altaïr. Not himself.

Looking lower he discerned the cause of Maliks pain, and his eyes widened.

Malik was gently pealing the sleeve from his wounded arm. The material was coated in fresh and dried blood and no matter how gentle Malik pulled, the sensitive flesh he still shuddered with every pull to his mangled sleeve.

Desmond sat still and watched. He felt bile rise in his throat with every pull, especially when new streams of blood were pulled free as the wound was finally revealed.

_Oh, God._

Desmond felt sick. The wound looked like something out of a horror film. Malik had accumulated a days worth of old blood, sand, and dirt crusting on the bandages that stuck to his skin.

_Fuck! If the coverings of the wound looks that bad, how bad is the actual wound!_

Desmond urgently shifted one foot underneath him as he prepared to stand.

Malik's eyes shot up to meet his shadowed face over the glow of the fire.

Desmond froze; his breath caught in his throat.

Firelight rippled in Malik's brown eyes. They were complete opposite of his battered state. They burned with determination, pride, courage, and pain. Desmond saw the eyes of a man who had walked into battle willingly side by side with death and always, always eluded it.

Desmond broke his gaze unable to look any longer and sat back down. Malik returned to his gruesome task leaving Desmond to think. Desmond rested his clasped hands on his knees and hung his head to lean on his cold white knuckles. His eyes lids closed heavily with defeat and shame.

How could have he forgotten! In all of his time in the animus he had lived the life of assassins that had eyes almost exactly like Maliks. But…they were not his own!

Ezio and Altair had fought every day for their lives, for the creed and for the ones they loved. He may have walked their memories, but it boiled down to one very hard truth. His trials, they were just phantoms. Sure he had skill. He could hold his own in a fight, pick-pockets, stealth assassinate, and whatever! But he himself, in his own body, had not done any of these things.

This revelation tore at his sense of being and gouged itself on his already shattering mind.

Desmond pried his hands apart from each other and slid them over his hoodie's soft white fabric and up the opposing forearms. He griped his arms tightly enough to leave marks. He used that pain to bring himself out of the dark tunnel he was digging himself into. He had to stay as far away from that place as he possibly could. Because somewhere in his mind was the bleeding effect, and it could creep up on him at any moment. Well, that had been what Lucy said, along with some mumbo jumbo about how the brain worked. Yah he zoned out on that part.

Desmond gave a quite half-hearted laugh. The thought of Lucy relaxed him a little. He wondered if he would ever see her again? She had given him hope when he had been a prisoner. Been a friend he could trust to help him. Now he had only himself to rely on. Him and his "memories".

Several short moments passed with Desmond wadding through all his confusing thoughts.

"Look boy."

Maliks voice, though strained, split the storm of thought in Desmond's mind.

Desmond jumped. His head shot up with speed that almost threw his hood off. Quickly becoming aware of this he lowered his head slightly at a more controlled speed to let his hood fall back into place. His eyes fell with his hood to stare at the fire. But his expression was floored.

"_What?"_

Confused, he raised his eyes over the fire to Malik. He was glaring at him but this time it did not hold any anger, of course they held pain, but they held determination and an aloofness that Desmond recognized. It was the same look Malik would give to Altair in some of the future visits to the bureau, the one that said that he was above him somehow and the other needed to learn.

Why the hell was Malik giving him that look? What did he want him to look at?

His confusion must have shown in his action because Malik repeated himself in a harsher tone.

"Look boy!"

Then, he ripped the rest of the bandages off his arm, tearing at the scabs that had attempted to cover the mangled flesh.

Desmond was seriously considering puking right about then. Because Malik's wound was starting to resemble a boiled hot dog.

He chocked out an "Oh God", but he did not avert his gaze. Even though every instinct in him was screaming at him to help Malik he couldn't.

Feeling helpless he did as he was instructed and watched as Malik re-dressed his wound. First the water, then the poultice, and finally the swollen flesh disappeared beneath clean white bandages. Desmond watched the whole damn process, not once did he avert his eyes. But he sure as hell wanted to! This was one of the most disgusting thing he had seen…Ok maybe a couple horror films but it was much worse in real life!

He clutched the sleeves of his hoodie again to help fight down the bile that threatened to rise at any moment. Over time he forced his chest to rise and fall with steady breaths. By the time Malik had finished Desmond almost had complete control over himself again.

Malik tied the bandage one last time, and lifted his good hand to wipe his sweaty face. Time passed for a few moments both men used this time to catch their breath from their own ordeal.

_End Flashback_

Back to the present Desmond now was recovering from that whole ordeal. He really did not want to see that but according to Malik he had to.

Glancing outside he estimated it to be about two hours after sundown it would be safer to leave later when the moon was up.

Glancing to Aman on his left he began wondering about the strange horse again. From what he could remember through Altaïr's memories Aman was givin as a gift to Altair from Al Mulaim when he turned thirteen. The horse had been suspicious of him at first, but immediately had taken a liking to his new master for what reasons Desmond did not know. But what he did know through Altaïr's memories was that everyone in the brotherhood knew that Aman was Altaïr's horse. Oh, once Abbas …

"What the…!" Desmond jumped to a crouched position as he felt something cold and wet come into contact with his hand, just to be knocked to the ground again as Aman laid down again with his heavy head in Desmond's lap.

"Ok what are you a horse or a dog!"

Aman just snorted and butted Desmond's hand in an encouragement to pet him. Oh my god this horse was crazy, feeling very annoyed Desmond complied and started stroking Aman's face and neck

Aman's show and Desmond's exclamation did the trick to sweep aside the earlier mood. Malik let out a weak chuckle.

Desmonds attention was diverted, totally annoyed that Malik was having fun at his discomfort. But whatever he thought, I probably would have done the same in his situation.

A change in light outside told Malik that the moon had finally risen. It would soon be time to put into action the boys other plan. If he could manage to get Aman off of him!

Malik mentally chuckled to himself at the memory of Aman earlier actions.

Aman was certainly taking a liking to the boy! He would never had thought it possible but here it was, Aman willingly being ridden and showing affection towards an person that was not Altaïr. In a very amusing way he might add. He had never seen a sight more amusing than that horse knock the boy to the ground just to be his headrest!

He could not help it as his chuckle reached his throat, his bandaged arm protested from the small movement and he winced at the pain.

A few deep breaths later, Malik regained his composure and his wits.

As amusing as the sight had been he could not let his guard down. True the boy was beginning to win his favor but he was still the most incomprehensible mystery he had come across! His skills spoke of training yes, but the boys reaction to his wounds was that of a novice! Then there was his garb, pack, stature and accent! Aghh!

In all his years he had never came across any foreigner who even slightly resembled the boy, and the boy kept his face carefully hidden so he only had the skin of his hands to determine what land he may be from. It was maddening!

Sighing he moved to pull his hood over his face, and once again he saw the boy's head turn in his direction then quickly looked back when he saw his observation was noted this time.

Malik resisted the urge to role his eyes. He did not need to be worried over like some breakable object! He was a master assassin in the brotherhood and the superior of the novice before him. The boy had proven that he would be willing to submit to his blade, but that had been him overreacting and the boy probably knew that the same way he seamed to know HIM even though he had never seen the boy before. He would be glad when they reached Masyaf. He could deliver the boy and the "Apple" to Al Mualim and then perhaps receive some answers.

With this in mind he placed his hand on the wall behind him to help support his weight as he stood. Keeping his eyes fixed on the ground near his feet he watched, as black spots danced in his view as he ground grew further away.

Finally with his feet firmly below him. He took a few deep breaths to gather his strength for the task ahead of him, and then went to his pack to retrieve his spare dagger. He felt the boys eyes and the eyes of both horses on him as he stooped down with a slight stagger to lift the flap of leather then reached under to the hidden pouch to the concealed the dagger.

Standing back up he looked at it thoughtfully, testing its weight in his hand. Looking out the corner of his eye to the other side of the cave, he slightly smirked. Desmond was having a "slight" problem in removing Aman's head from his lap. All the more because Aman did not feel much inclined to move. After a few moments of struggle Desmond pried himself from under the horses weight, leaving a disgruntled Aman to rest his head on the colder ground. The boy rolled away and clambered to his feet. He then paused for a moment to exchange glares with the horse then turned expectantly to him.

Without a word Malik tossed the dagger to the boy. He caught it with ease and at once removed the dagger from its sheath, tested its sharpness, weight, and balance, with practice movements that almost mirrored Altaïr. Another clue to the boys identity but one he did not favor.

The boy sheathed the blade and attached it to his belt in foreign style rather than wear the blade across his back, but he would ignore this for now. The boys back was already burdened by the weight of his own pack and its valuable contents.

"The moon has shown its face and how long it will linger will determine success or failure." Maliks tone was brisk, and commanding but only produced a small reaction from the boy as he moved his head.

"Robert will expect an attack much likely later on in the evening, not now. I just want to know the situation on what he's up to."

"Is your tie to the creed so thin that you would not bother to gather more useful information novice?"

The boy's hands spasmed into clenched fists as he finished speaking, and was quick to reply.

"One, don't call me a novice two, the information is your job because you're the one that's giving it to Al Mualim and three, don't underestimate me, I have my reasons"

"I am all ears to hear these reasons." Malik said nonchalant

"Sorry but life is full of disappointments" The boys reply was dripping with sarcasm as thick as honey.

"Are you mocking me!"

Enraged he loosened his sword in his sheath. The insolence this boy!

"Calm down! I meant that I don't want to give you my reasons." The boys hands rose in front of him defensively.

"Then speak plainly!" he almost yelled. "And while your about it consider giving me some of the promised ANSWERES to your riddles.

The boy rocked back and forth on his feet for a moment before placing his hands his his pockets.

"Fine ask, but remember I said I would not answer all of your questions."

Malik did not feel content with that but I was a start all the same.

"From what land do you hail?"

"Start with something closer to our situation and you'll likely get answers."

Damn it all! This boy was eager to tell him nothing of importance!

"Fine! Why are you so concerned about Robert?"

"I have a list of reasons but it sums up to he is the leader of the templar's and he hates Assassins." The boy was very sarcastic in his tone but Malik found himself not contradicting it.

"Yes, he is a feared Crusader and our greatest enemy but his Templar legions make up only a piece of the army."

The boy gave no response instead Malik was mystified when he began to chuckle. He began to walk back wards until his back hit the wall, his arms clutched his stomach as he struggled to control his laughter.

Another sound then echoed on his right, he turned quickly to see Aman neighing almost like he was laughing as well!

"What sorcery is this! The horse laughs!"

Both boy and horse stopped at the same time. The boy looked at Aman who looked back at him.

"Ok that was weird."

The boy then straightened up, and walked forward again towards the cave entrance and glanced outside.

"Look if you have any more questions ask them quickly. We have to leave soon if we are going to be able to get into the camp before Robert increases to nightly guard."

Approaching the cave entrance himself he confirmed the boys statement, the moon was full and bright this night and Robert always did feel inclined to place more guards, for fear of an attack.

Looking back at the boy he asked. "Why have I not seen you before? All novices train together and your stature suggests we are about the same age?"

The boy took a few moments before answering, probably in deep thought, or choosing his words carefully.

"My parents were of the order but we traveled a lot, always on the run. I was trained but I'm alone now. I had given up the life of an assassin until enemies tracked me down and I was forced to run."

Malik took time to ponder this answer. He went through his memory of events that may verify this story and connect the pieces. It was not uncommon for contacts to move about. There had also been stories of Assassins that lived in seclusion, but the order had been centered in Masyaf for the past 25 to 30 years. Which meant that…

"Have you yourself ever been to Masyaf?" He asked

The boy shook his head in reply.

No.

Malik felt a coming wave of fatigue. No not now!

His knees felt week, to prolong the process he gulped air like a racehorse at the finish pole. It worked and a few moments later he was as well as he could be.

The boy slowly walking towards him he stopped just shy of four paces from himself.

The boys stance was soft and unthreatening.

"I would ask you in normal circumstances to stay behind and not risk it, but you don't trust me so lets just hurry." The boys tone was calm and again his instincts told him to trust the boy.

ARGG! Fine! He would let his mind win for now!

"Lead to way" he said voice almost in a whisper

The boy turned to exit the warmth of the cave and into the star blanketed night; pale light washed the canyon silver, the shadows were cast sharply in black. The shadows would be sufficient cover this night.

Malik followed the boy out side. He found a part of his mind marveling at how the moonlight seamed to make the boys tunic softly shine. He shook this thought aside and turned his mind to the sky. It was not much better, if not worse. For one of the constellations to grace the sky this night was the eagle.

He grimaced a the gathering of stars its brightest star shared the same name as the man who's pride led to his brothers death.

Glancing at the retreating back before him. He thought, but it did lead to his most interesting "savior".

Thought on the past done for now, He adjusted his saber and followed the boy.

Note: Merry Christmas sorry it took so long. I was slightly occupied with (ok severely occupied) with college. I can come up with some more excuses but I don't see the point.

Announcement: I am looking for an official beta if interested PM me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything assassins creed belongs to its creators who are geniuses

**Note**: Thank you to my new beta Shadow-hunter93 for helping me get this chapter done and terrific ideas. And of course to all my readers who have been begging me for a new chapter and leaving me magnificent reviews I apologize profusely for it taking this long. Lets just say schools been a pain and I got distracted my other stories as well. I was also having major writers block as Desmond can tell you from a previous conversation.

"Flashback"

Desmond: Well what do you know you speak!

Solena: ...is that the best you can come up with?

Desmond: It's called a humor, which you and Malik both seam to lack.

Solena/ Malik: " death glare"

Desmond: "gulp" changing the subject. When are you going to start writing the story again. I mean you just left your audience hanging!

Audience: " pitch forks and swords"

Solena: point taken but don't murder me!

Malik: you are being neglectful of your duties as a writer and if you don't mind I would rather NOT HAVE TO DEAL WITH MY WOUNDED ARM ANY LONGER!

Desmond: "sniggers"

Solena: "fingers in ear's" I'm not listening to you Malik I'm listening to myself and myself says I will get to it when I no longer have writers block so SHUT IT.

Solena: to the audience I apologize for their behavior it's hard being the mature one here. "runs away"

Malik: Get back here you imp!

Well I'm back now and not dead so sit back relax and enjoy:)

The trek to Robert's camp took less time than Desmond thought it would. Malik managed to keep up with him as they cautiously traversed the path to the wide gap in the cliff face. A mound of rock debris spanned the still jagged cliff walls in an uneven concave scoop. The climb up the brittle hill was surprisingly easy for Desmond. Only a few times did the rock crumble beneath an unsteady step.

Up and over he went, sparing small glances to Malik who managed to keep up behind him.

Desmond smoothly jumped the last of the heap onto flat ground checking this stretch off his mental list. Looking down at himself Desmond could see a fresh layer of dirt covering his cloths. Biting his lip, he held back a groan of annoyance. Well at least it was not a sewer he thought.

Desmond brushed himself off as Malik clambered down the hill. Malik was using one hand to steady his decent down the last few boulders. On the last step the rocks beneath Malik's feet split in two sending him forward. Desmond rushed to him and caught him by his good arm before the man ate dirt. He was surprised when Malik did not push him away as he got his feet under him, but leaned into his support as he choked for air.

Desmond did not bother asking if he was ok. There was no point, Malik had made it very clear that he was going and that was final.

When Malik's breathing became less labored he nodded to Desmond signaling him to let go as he pulled away from him.

"I am fine." Malik said taking a few steps off to the side sounding more than a bit deadbeat.

Giving Malik a few more moments Desmond looked ahead through the gradually thinning line of trees down the hill to Robert's camp.

It was a little under a fourth of a mile away he estimated, but even at this distance he could still tell that there was quite a number of men camped there. He counted all the tents he could see illuminated by the camps fires, torches, and even a few by moon light. Doing the calculations in numbers and by memory he reckoned that maybe half of Robert's forces were here. But they had been enough, or they would be enough to beat back the Assassins to the castle tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The word sent a cold chill down Desmond. His actions tomorrow would determine his fate in this time. He was not that naïve to Malik's reasons for staying with him. Heck the man could have taken the Apple and ran at any time, but he did not. The first part in his strategy to gain Malik's trust had been to gain his interest. However it was not until the cave that he realized he had already gained the man's interest, but not in the way he wanted. He knew now, and was able to confirm his worst fear that Malik was not just coming with him to spy on Roberts's camp for himself. He was making sure Desmond did not run away.

Malik was planning on turning him over to the Al Mualim.

A midnight breeze blew from the west chilling Desmond. Automatically his hands rose to rub some warmth back into his body, but it was little use against the chill in his soul.

Desmond felt Malik's approach behind him without even looking back. Knowing that Malik would want to take a look at the camp himself. Quickly he dropped his arms to his side and backed off not even giving him a backwards glace. Still feeling the ever-pressing weight of foreboding.

Something was going to happen soon and he did not know what it was, but something was coming. Whether it be a person or event Desmond did not know. But he was definitely going to listen to his gut. After his little trip back a couple hundred years. His instincts were forefront in his mind.

His eyes firmly fixed on a broad tree to lean against while he waited. He made an effort to be calm as he rested his heavy shoulders against jagged bark. But inside his anger was building.

Desmond hoped that this trip would be a lot easier than his previous incident in the cave. Preferably he would not have to explain anything to Malik this time around. Going over his recent actions he really wanted to kick himself. Hard. "_My parents were of the order but, we traveled a lot, always on the run. I was trained but I'm alone now."_God! Could he have been any more cryptic! He was supposed to gain Malik trust, not dangle a bone in front of him like a starving dog only to pull it away at the last second!

Shifting his feet Desmond tried to get comfortable as Malik finished up his assessment.

A few moments later Desmond heard the hitch in Malik's breath.

"Allah!"

So Malik had counted the same as him. He closed his eyes feeling pity for the man besides him. He had known this was coming but Malik was just now seeing the reality of it.

"The soldiers are preparing for battle!"

"Yes" Desmond replied.

"Are they truly going to attack Masyaf?"

Desmond blinked at Malik surprised by the inquiry.

"That's what I said, but if you really want to find out..." he let his sentence trail off, both to let Malik come to his own choice. And also because his eagle vision had just turned on.

Though this time, it felt different.

"There is no other way," Malik stated, defeated but firm. "Let us go."

Without looking back he continued to silently walk to Robert's camp.

But Desmond was not really listening at this point his eyes were frozen on Malik's retreating back, shimmering in blue and white.

Desmond forced his feet to move, his mind and eyes still on the ground where shimmering footprints flickered in and out of existence. They were Malik's footprints. Looking slightly up watched as Malik's boots rolled up off the ground leaving behind more shimmering blue prints.

_I should not be able to do this! _Desmond thought. And it was true; in all of his time in the animus he had never "seen" any of his ancestors do what he was doing now. _What the heck was this?_

Shuddering a bit in his steps Desmond tried to turn off his eagle vision like he had in the past. Just letting it fade, but after a few tries Desmond blinked. And nothing had changed. Malik was still outlined in blue and his past footprints still shimmered. Blinking Desmond suddenly felt a burning behind his eyes and not the 'I've got dust in my eyes feeling', this was more like a 'I've been in front of the computer too long with a side of his Dad's coffee concoction' he was wide awake jittery. The forestry around him shimmered and the camp was becoming more focused. With his eyes locked forward his vision seamed to close in on a certain location in Robert's camp. A tent stood out among its copies that littered the area but unlike the others it was started to pulse a faint red.

_What's that?_

Before Desmond could piece together his scattered thoughts. The power behind his eyes burned out causing his vision to zoom back to normal. The trees returning to moonlit black and green, the tents to their far away grey and Malik's diminishing form in front of him.

_What did I just do? _Desmond thought. Eagle vision was old news to him, he had been using it for weeks now but this was different, way different.

Surprisingly Desmond was still moving. But he could not remember how.

But he did know one thing now. Out of everything that happened so far, getting here, scatterbrained plans and pure guesswork. He finally had a solid lead.

~0~0~0~

His men were scurrying about making ready for the battle that was to come tomorrow. The shadows of their scrambling forms cast shadows on his maps that he and his most trusted subordinates were pouring over. Strategy over strategy plan after plan, drilling the battle spirit into the men with a fierceness that would assure no mercy for those despicable Assassins! Everything was ready except for two crucial uncertainties.

"Has there been any word from our spy!" Robert bellowed at his assembly.

"No my lord." It was Lovell that answered. One of Robert's most reliable intelligence agents and the most stoic.

"And why not!" Robert growled. Had it been any other man he would have had a few more harsh words, but Lovell had never failed him in all the years he served loyally under him. His connections as well as his brutality made him a most valuable asset.

"Had the attack been two days from now and not one he would have reported directly to me however under the circumstances I had to resort to a back up plan"

"Which one." Robert demanded

" The second milord." Lovell coolly answered unaffected by Roberts burning glare.

"Then you imbecile why haven't you left yet!"

Two of the men in the room smirked their eyes gleamed in satisfaction the older man seamed to have final failed.

"My best man has already ridden ahead and is taking care of the plan. I am here milord because the Assassins are not ahead of us."

The men's smiles dropped like dead flies.

"What!"

~0~0~0~

"Shi..! Mhmmm!" Malik's hand clamped over Desmond's mouth before his voice gave their position away.

Desmond and Malik had infiltrated the camp with only a few difficulties. With Malik more familiar with the outlay of the camp than Desmond they only had to kill a few patrolling guards. Desmond had made a few stealth kills hiding in the haystacks and also took the liberty to hide Malik's kill in the camps crude well. Malik had been speechless for a few moments as Desmond dumped to body down a perfectly good source of water and had actually looked ready to give Desmond a tongue lashing, but instead he had taken a breath and actual gave a weak chuckle before saying. "That's actually quite clever."

Nothing much had happened after that. Malik led the way but Desmond noticed after a while that they were heading to the same tent that caused his eagle vision to go haywire. At the said tent there was a line or barrels against the back with just enough room for him and Malik to hide behind. It became very obvious who the tent belonged to as a thick French accent started barking orders. It was Roberts. This must be his center of command Desmond thought but did not voice. Malik and him had not spoken since the well the guards were too thick and if one of them heard them talking and came to investigate there was a too great of a chance of being caught.

Which was why Malik's grip on his face was not lessening. He tried to move Malik's had with his own but all that got him was a harsher hold on his face.

Ok he got it! Desmond thought Malik's hand was not going anywhere but could he loosen his grip a little. Desmond's thoughts must have played out in his body language because not a moment later Malik let his hand relax. Desmond's felling of relief was quickly lived because the conversation was resuming in the tent.

"How do you know this?!" Robert asked this Lovell character. The name was ringing a bell somewhere in the part of his mind that was Altaír's but he did not have time to dwell on that.

"Impossible." A younger highly peeved voice sounded. "We have reports that the man Robert let go already passed this point."

"Did I give you leave to speak boy!"

"Uhh…No milord?"

A harsh slap sounded loud enough to make Desmond flinch at the thought of the pain of a blow that made that much noise.

"Then stay silent!" a meek yes milord was uttered by the soldier and soon after he left the tent.

"It is not Altaír I was speaking of milord but Malik and the boy."

It was Malik's turn to stiffen at the use of his name. Desmond's mind was racing at this point. Who the hell was this guy! Wait, what did he mean "the boy" oh crap they were talking about him!

"Everyone go to your posts you are dismissed for the moment make ready for tomorrow! Guard, fetch my steward!" A chorus of milords was heard before the soldiers hustled out of the tent and to their duties.

"You were saying Lovell."

"I had my men sweep the area, the runt was right that Altair passed this way but no other Assassin has passed this point. However I would be a fool if I were to assume they were behind us."

"Speak plainly Lovell."

"Milord I believe that the Assassins may be near our camp."

"You are certain." Robert said. The pitch in his voice dropping.

"Yes Milord." Lovell answered.

Desmond at this point was sweating. This guy was good really good and that was so not good for them. If this guy was is charge of finding them their survival rate was dropping very quickly.

A chuckle resonated from the tent it took a moment for Desmond to realize it was Robert who was laughing.

"Knowing you, I am to guess you already sent out the scouts to prove this?'

"Yes milord they should be getting back momentarily with a report." Lovell replied seeming pleased with himself.

"Good." Robert firmly said.

"Get the report and return to me will see what our jackals have been doing."

"Yes milord." Lovell replied.

The opening of the tent flap signaled Lovell's exit and Malik let go of Desmond's face.

"Allah" Malik whispered as Desmond massaged his aching jaw.

"I thought that bastard was dead!"

"You know him?" Desmond asked surprised.

"Yes. But your curiosity will have to be sated later."

Malik inched forward from their hiding spot, glancing at Desmond then back at the patrolling guards looked to be contemplating for a moment before nodding his head.

"Boy stay here and don't move."

"What!" Desmond hissed.

"Quiet, I have to find out what his scouts have uncovered. I will make quick work of it faster if it is only I." Desmond opened his mouth to protest but Malik cut him off

"Do not argue with me boy!"

"You're trusting me here by myself?" Desmond questioned.

Malik sighed and said, "Yes."

Desmond blinked in surprise that was not at all what he expected.

"Your name was uttered in the same context as mine and you are full of fear at the fact that Robert is hunting you. Now wait here!"

With that last word Malik was gone leaving Desmond on his own.

But not a few moments after Malik left did Desmond hear some one enter Roberts tent.

"You summoned me milord." Said a very familiar feminine voice.

Desmond had to clamp his own hand over his mouth to hide his shock. It was Maria! Future wife of Altaír or at least she would be. But what was she doing…Oh. Desmond mentally kicked himself. Robert had called for his steward, he had been too absent minded at the time to remember that his steward was his many times great grandmother. Ugh! For some reason thinking about it like that was making him feel a little sick.

"Yes. Maria, remember when I said that the artifact contained secrets that could change this very world."

Desmond's ears pricked up. Now he was glad Malik had left. This conversation was more up his alley.

"Yes milord. The wonders you described to me about the Apple were nothing short of miraculous." Maria sounded firm but a little unsure about where this subject was heading.

"We have had an unexpected development in our plan." The rustle of papers accompanied Roberts voice

"The loss of the apple you mean." Maria questioned.

"No." Robert countered, "It's the boy."

"With all due respect milord how does this urchin affect the circumstances?" Maria inquired.

Desmond was surprised at this point in how much Maria was getting away with when talking to Robert.

"If he was a normal boy he would not but he is anything but that." The was a very tense pause.

"Maria what I'm about to tell you is never to be uttered again to anyone but me do you understand."

"Yes milord." Maria's voice was firm but held caution.

"I held to Apple once in my hands. In that one moment I saw things that in my wildest dreams could never have come up with, some were familiar some were not. Only recently have I been able to make sense of some of the images I saw." Robert passed once again to take a breath. Desmond did not dare even to breath. What the hell did this man know?

"The boy was one of the images that I saw. He knows more about the Apple than any man alive. He is the Key. I will say no more than this, but it is paramount that this boy be captured alive and delivered to me." Robert let his revelation hang in the silence. Letting Maria absorb the information.

Desmond on the other hand had felt the blood drain from his face with every word Robert spoke. His thought process was frozen in a cold chill. Robert knew about him. Knew about him from the Apple. The Apple of Eden! If he knew about him from that damned sphere, then he possibly knew the truth about him where he came from!

Desmond was starting to hyperventilate. No! He quickly told his body. Not now, I need to stay calm!

The conversation had resumed in the tent while Desmond and been in a state of panic But he just managed to tune in again as Robert stopped giving orders that he had missed.

"It will be done milord, but may I speak freely." Maria asked.

"You may." Robert answered with mild amusement.

Maria hesitated for a moment, which was quite strange because she was a woman that was never afraid to voice her opinion.

"When we capture the boy should he be brought to your headquarters or your bed first?"

WHAT! Desmond had frozen yet again. She was not serious was she?

"Hahah! Very perceptive of you Maria. We will see when the time comes."

Desmond felt like he was going to be sick.

**Note**: Yes Lenbug it's another cliffy MUAHHHHHHHH!

Solena out.


End file.
